by Mary Shelley
I’m reading a relatively recently published gothic-style novel which I may review after I finish it. It takes me back to earlier works of this genre which I’ve enjoyed.
The first and foremost of these was Mary Shelley’s masterpiece (we can certainly use that term since she apparently didn’t write much else of note). I was introduced to this novel in high school, thanks to a great lit teacher who exposed us to a rich trove of delightfully diverse material including Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Hemingway, and Damon Runyan.
At that age, of course, “Frankenstein” was familiar to us only as the grotesque depicted by James Whale and Boris Karloff. Shelley’s book presented the story in a new perspective for me; Karloff’s character developed a completely “new life” (Ohhh, the pun police’ll get me for that). Her language has the flow and style which seem common to English novels of the early nineteenth century, and which is so intriguingly marvelous. Dialogues (and soliloquies, for that matter) are typically long and floridly picturesque – similar to those in the contemporary TV series “Deadwood”, but free from the ubiquitous obscenities.
Shelley concocted the basis for her novel at 18, about the same age I was when first exposed to it. I believe it was further developed with a final edition some twelve or thirteen years later in 1832 or so; perhaps her ideas had matured a bit by that time, much as mine had in the same span. In any event, as I became, hopefully, more perceptive, I found that the book impacts on several levels, much beyond that of a piece of horror fiction.
Among these is the obvious and still relevant argument over the ascendance of science and technology over ethics and morality. Are there indeed areas that are the province of God, where man should not go?
On a completely different tack, I suppose the commandment “Honor thy father and thy mother” was an especially important dictum in that day and age to sustain an orderly and obedient society with its need for family support partially through child labor, reliance upon the wisdom of the elders, and care for the old folks by the younger generations. However, I think Shelley presents a very valid case for a complementary commandment: “Honor thy children (or creations)!” The title character, Frankenstein, abandons his “child” to the abuses of the world with disastrous results. Is that still not an issue in today’s society?
And, as a student of human nature, I’m intrigued with the creature’s response to his abandonment. Does he prevail with the pluck of Oliver Twist or Scarlet O’Hara or Victor Frankyl? No; instead he spends his time feeling sorry for himself until developing murderous rage which, among other depredations, leads him to patricide and finally suicide -- even this last act is a self-centeredly spectacular immolation at the North Pole of all places. Poor baby! I guess we’ve all known folks like that; not as dramatic maybe, but after all he’s made from a lot of different people.
If you like old novels with strong points and fancy language, I recommend this one.
The first and foremost of these was Mary Shelley’s masterpiece (we can certainly use that term since she apparently didn’t write much else of note). I was introduced to this novel in high school, thanks to a great lit teacher who exposed us to a rich trove of delightfully diverse material including Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Hemingway, and Damon Runyan.
At that age, of course, “Frankenstein” was familiar to us only as the grotesque depicted by James Whale and Boris Karloff. Shelley’s book presented the story in a new perspective for me; Karloff’s character developed a completely “new life” (Ohhh, the pun police’ll get me for that). Her language has the flow and style which seem common to English novels of the early nineteenth century, and which is so intriguingly marvelous. Dialogues (and soliloquies, for that matter) are typically long and floridly picturesque – similar to those in the contemporary TV series “Deadwood”, but free from the ubiquitous obscenities.
Shelley concocted the basis for her novel at 18, about the same age I was when first exposed to it. I believe it was further developed with a final edition some twelve or thirteen years later in 1832 or so; perhaps her ideas had matured a bit by that time, much as mine had in the same span. In any event, as I became, hopefully, more perceptive, I found that the book impacts on several levels, much beyond that of a piece of horror fiction.
Among these is the obvious and still relevant argument over the ascendance of science and technology over ethics and morality. Are there indeed areas that are the province of God, where man should not go?
On a completely different tack, I suppose the commandment “Honor thy father and thy mother” was an especially important dictum in that day and age to sustain an orderly and obedient society with its need for family support partially through child labor, reliance upon the wisdom of the elders, and care for the old folks by the younger generations. However, I think Shelley presents a very valid case for a complementary commandment: “Honor thy children (or creations)!” The title character, Frankenstein, abandons his “child” to the abuses of the world with disastrous results. Is that still not an issue in today’s society?
And, as a student of human nature, I’m intrigued with the creature’s response to his abandonment. Does he prevail with the pluck of Oliver Twist or Scarlet O’Hara or Victor Frankyl? No; instead he spends his time feeling sorry for himself until developing murderous rage which, among other depredations, leads him to patricide and finally suicide -- even this last act is a self-centeredly spectacular immolation at the North Pole of all places. Poor baby! I guess we’ve all known folks like that; not as dramatic maybe, but after all he’s made from a lot of different people.
If you like old novels with strong points and fancy language, I recommend this one.
Review by Ken West
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